Cool and Creamy
by steepedinshadows419
Summary: A pint of ice cream once a month given to the two most important women in Barry Allen's life. Barry/Iris. Brief Henry/Nora. Oneshot.


**A/N:** Another request completed for the lovely **iwasalwaysaromantic** for dishing me out another batch of westallen icons. Thank you, dear! I followed the details of the prompt request as closely as I possibly could. I hope you all enjoy!

 ***** Many thanks to **sendtherain** for beta'ing.

 ***** I own nothing. No copyright infringement intended.

...

Locks tossed about from the many times he'd gripped his hair in frustration while deciding what color to use, a seven-year-old Barry finally settled on red for the spots of the green dinosaur only somewhat resembling the character from his favorite book, _The Runaway Dinosaur_. He grinned from ear to ear when all of his handmade spots had been filled in, leaving only the grass and the sky to be colored. At which point he would present the masterpiece to his mother. She would promptly respond with a soft awestruck gasp and a 'my beautiful boy,' her hand over her heart as if she'd never seen something so wonderful. Then she'd lock eyes with him, a twinkle in hers, and make her way to the fridge where she'd stick it with the alphabet magnets forever present there.

"So, I can see it every time I'd get something to eat," she'd say.

And he'd respond with, "or get us something to eat."

She'd laugh. "Oh, yes, if I didn't cook for you and your father, you both would starve."

Barry could envision it all now, and it made him that much more enthusiastic to get his drawing finished. It didn't matter to him that the cycle repeated itself to the tee every time. His mother never grew tired of his dinosaur drawings, and he never tired of requesting _The Runaway Dinosaur_ to be read to him at bedtime.

He'd heard his father mumble a time or two that maybe his son was getting too old for bedtime stories, but his mother hushed him with a quick kiss and a straightening of his tie, and that was always more than enough to satisfy Henry Allen.

The sound of the door opening behind him caused Barry's head to spin around. He gasped, a smile breaking across his features, his drawing temporarily forgotten, as he saw who was coming through the door and into the living room.

"Dad!" He got up from the coffee table and ran to the door, giggling when his father swept him up in his arms and held him close to his chest as Barry threw his arms around his neck and squeezed tight.

"Hey there, Slugger," Henry responded, setting him down a few moments later. "What have you been up to today on this fine Saturday morning?"

"Drawing," Barry said, rocking a fit on the balls of his feet.

Henry Allen raised an eyebrow. "Let me guess. A dinosaur?"

Barry frowned. "How did you know?"

He chuckled. "Lucky guess."

Barry shrugged that off. "Wanna see?"

Henry smiled tenderly down at his son. "In a minute." He lifted his head and began to scan the room, his brows furrowing when he couldn't seem to see what he was looking for.

"You looking for Mommy?" Barry asked, taking his father by surprise.

"Yes, actually. Do you know—"

"She's in the kitchen," Barry said, returning to his spot by the coffee table and settling down to his drawing. "I'm gonna finish coloring and then I'm gonna give this to her and she's going to put it on the fridge and probably feed us, cause it's lunch time."

Henry chuckled, looking at his son in wonder. "Probably," he murmured to himself.

Barry heard his father walk past him and into the kitchen, heard his parents exchange greetings, and then heard his mother gasp. Barry's hand stilled on his crayon, and he craned his neck to see what had delighted his mother so.

"Oh, Henry, you know you don't have to do this every month. It's not like I'm pregnant or hormonal."

Barry's heart fell into the pit of his stomach at the thought of having to share his parents with another sibling.

The feeling of dread was replaced by the sound of his father responding to his mother.

"I know I don't have to, but I like to. Some women get flowers from their husbands, you get ice cream."

Nora raised her eyebrows and wordlessly gestured to the bouquet by the sink that he'd brought home the day before. Henry's jaw dropped, rendered speechless. Nora laughed.

"I love you for thinking of me," she said, closing the distance between them with a quick kiss before holding the pint of ice cream to her stomach. "I'll be eating this now."

"All of it?" he gawked, but of course he was teasing, because of course he raised his hands in surrender when Nora shot him a glare. Barry couldn't see it.

"Eat to your heart's content. I'm going to check on our boy again."

Nora didn't say anything, but it was a safe bet she was smiling, because Henry smiled again too before leaving the kitchen to rejoin his son. He stopped suddenly when he spotted Barry looking up at him pouting, his eyebrows furrowed, and something bordering hurt and irritation simmering in his eyes.

"Hey, what's wrong?" He crouched down, so he was at eye-level with his son. "Did I do something?"

"How come Mommy gets ice cream, and I don't?" he demanded. It wasn't particularly the ice cream that had upset him, but he did always wonder how she kept sporadically getting some once a month that was just for her.

Henry sat on the ground and folded his hands in his lap.

"Well, Barry, because I think your mom is very special, and sometimes I think she should get things that are just for her. I want her to know how much I love and appreciate her, and I know giving her ice cream reminds her of that a little bit."

"Huh." Barry contemplated that.

"But you know what I think will remind her of that even more?" He asked, leaning forward a bit with a glint in his eye.

"What?" Barry asked, curiosity getting the better of him.

Henry took on an all-knowing air. "Your dinosaur drawing."

Barry gasped, looked back at his almost finished drawing and then at his dad again.

"Really?"

"Mhmm. No matter what I do…She likes those pictures more than any food or flowers I give her."

Barry smiled wide, forgetting any previous vehemence he'd had with his father.

"You better finish that up quick and give it to her."

Barry licked his lips and nodded, quickly reaching for the blue crayon to finish up his sky.

"I will. She's going to love it!"

Henry smiled softly and ruffled his son's hair.

"She definitely will."

All of thirty seconds later, Barry had finished drawing and sped into the kitchen where his mom was halfway through her pint of tiramisu caramel chocolate ice cream.

She set it down when she saw him and met him halfway as he shoved the facedown drawing into her hand.

"What have we got here?" she asked, as if she didn't know.

Barry urged her to flip over, and just like clockwork, she quietly gasped – a better gasp than what she'd given his father, Barry decided – and then, her hand over her heart, she said, "My beautiful boy…"

Barry started walking to the fridge before she even got there.

"So I can see it every time I get something to eat," she said pointedly.

"Or get us something to eat," Barry reminded her, bouncing up onto his toes.

Nora's laugh subsided into a gentle smile.

"Of course. If I didn't cook for you and your father, you'd both starve."

…

Twelve-year-old Barry Allen paced outside the bathroom door upstairs. He'd heard a crying Iris from down the hall and ran out to see what was wrong, but he didn't make it in time before she'd locked herself in the bathroom and called, "Nothing's wrong, Barry. Go back to bed."

The sniffles told him well enough that everything was not fine, and he'd be the worst best friend ever if he left her while she was crying. He wished he could get Joe, but the older man had left in the middle of the night because of some emergency at the station. Barry knew he hated to leave them alone, but he must've figured that with at least one of them turning thirteen soon that was pretty much the equivalent of them being okay by themselves if he was gone. After all, they had each other and they knew what to do if something really serious happened.

Barry wondered if this was serious.

 _Probably not_ , the voice in his head told him, even though a million red flags went up for him whenever Iris was in distress.

"Iris…" he tried again.

"I'm fine!" she insisted – more tears, a higher pitch, and _louder_.

 _Not good._

But he didn't want to upset her further, so he very loudly stomped down the hall to his room and then tiptoed back to just outside the bathroom door. He kept as quiet as a mouse while he waited for her to emerge. He heard her rummaging around in the cupboards, huffing in frustration, and turning the sink on and off a few times.

After about twenty minutes, the door open, and Iris walked out, promptly halting and gasping when she spotted him sitting on the floor.

" _Barry_."

He quickly stood to his feet, not saying anything, but his facial expression a combination of deer-caught-in-the-headlights and tell-me-what's-wrong-I'm-worried.

An excruciatingly long five seconds tick past till finally Iris' shoulders slumped in spite of herself.

"Sorry for yelling at you," she said quietly. "That wasn't very nice."

"'t's okay…" He cautiously shuffled towards her. "What's wrong?"

She sighed dramatically. "Well, you know how I haven't been feeling very well that last couple days?"

"Uh-huh."

"And how my dad acted a little weird when I told him some stuff just before dinner yesterday?"

"Yeah…" Barry was increasingly wary now.

"And how instead of sitting with you at lunch yesterday, I went to the nurse's office?"

His brows furrowed. Was she sneaking off to hang out with friends that weren't him? Was that what had upset Joe before dinner? And why she wouldn't tell him what was up? Or rather, how he could tell that she was lying.

"You said it was because you were sick," he said.

"It was!" Her eyes widened as she went into full reassurance mode. "I wasn't lying about that!"

He sighed as his arms flailed about. "Well then what, Iris?" He paused a moment to keep himself in check. "What were you crying about just now?" he asked quietly.

She swallowed, clearly debating about how much to tell him.

"It's nothing much, really." She laughed nervously, avoiding eye contact. Then she straightened her shoulders. "It's just that I'm a woman now, Barry."

He blinked, beyond confused.

"And so…sometimes I'll get sick a couple times a month and maybe I'll cry, but that's just what being a woman is about, and you shouldn't worry."

"Oh…kay…" His brows furrowed, trying to piece together what she was telling him. He'd heard boys snicker about it in gym class and been both offended on all women's behalf, and also really curious about what exactly it was about.

Then he remembered back to when his dad always used to give his mom ice cream once a month and wondered if it was connected. A devious plan started to develop in the back of his mind.

"Do you understand, Barry?" she asked, clearly wanting very much not to explain it further. Maybe she didn't really understand it herself.

"I…think so." He straightened and brightened up. "Yes. Yes, I do."

Her nose crinkled up, and he could see the words plain as day written on her face – _at least one of us does._

"Good," she said a bit awkwardly. "Well then, I think we should go to bed now."

"Right. Yes, that's…that's a good idea," he said.

"Okay, then…" She shuffled past him into her room. "Goodnight, Barry."

"Goodnight, Iris." He confidently strutted back to his room, but he didn't sleep much.

The next day after school, Barry made up an excuse about forgetting something and for Iris to start walking home. He'd just catch up to her. She was wary but agreed. When she got home and up to her room, he was sitting on her bed, a pint of mint chocolate chip ice cream in his hand.

She gasped as he held it out to her. "Barry. How did you—"

"For your period!" he declared, a moment later blushing a fierce red and then paling to almost white, no further words able to tumble past his lips, his tongue too thick to move.

Iris' mouth was hanging open. She wasn't able to speak, either.

She hadn't named her condition, other than entering womanhood. She had only heard the word once. She certainly had never said the word aloud, and she didn't ever intend to. Especially not to a boy, even if he was her best friend.

"I'll get you a spoon," Barry muttered under his breath what felt like an eternity later.

Wide-eyed and determined to avoid eye contact for the rest of her life, Iris let him run past her. A full ten minutes later, which was waaaay longer than was necessary to get a spoon, Barry hesitantly walked into the room again, honestly surprised to see she was still there.

"I wasn't about to abandon my favorite ice cream, Barry," she said, still avoiding his eyes, but her voice was stable, definitely under control.

Barry's lips twitched at the corner, encouraging him to cross the room close enough to hand her the spoon. Then he backed away quickly.

Iris sighed dramatically, then patted the spot next to her on her bed.

"Sit by me, Barry."

When he finally had, she glanced over to him and nudged him teasingly so he fell sideways, not expecting the silly gesture.

"It's just a word," she said and rolled her eyes.

 _Right_ , Barry thought to himself, but just nodded with a smile.

He'd be sure to avoid saying that particular word for as long as he could and deliver ice cream to her every month for as long as they lived together, just as his dad had done for his mother, in exchange for any further awkward moments regarding Iris' embarking into womanhood.

And that's exactly what he did.

…

On Christmas Eve several years later, Barry bought a beautiful, spacious loft for both he and Iris to live in. She said yes to him then, and yes again when he got down on one knee and asked her to marry him. Twice. Less than a year after that, in one of the craziest weddings of probably all time, Iris West became Iris West-Allen.

Ever since they moved in together, Barry had resumed the custom of bringing home a pint of Iris' favorite mint chocolate chip once a month, delighting in the sparkle that shone in her eyes and the light that illuminated her face as she snatched the pint from his hands and promptly devoured it on the couch, causing a chuckle to slip out of him like clockwork. He had come to expect that reaction from her and had even gotten to the point of yearning for the moment she realized what he had brought home with him.

But today, this month, was different.

Because today, cheerful as ever when he made his monthly deliveries, Barry bounded into the loft, not even calling out to Iris to see if she was home before heading straight for the kitchen to place his pint of ice cream into the freezer.

When he opened the door to the freezer, the usual spot he put said pint was completely filled up by a gallon-sized container of mint chocolate chip ice cream. He frowned, staring at it in disbelief. _Was it possible Iris had gone out and bought it herself? Surely she knew he would've come home with some. Did she want him to step up his game and start bringing her a larger size?_ All she had to do was ask. He'd probably just want to share.

"Surprise?"

He nearly jumped, shaken out of his reverie by Iris' voice and presence suddenly beside him.

"Iris! You—you scare—" He cut himself off, frowning. "Did you do this?" He gestured to the oversized ice cream container in the still open freezer.

Iris bit her bottom lip, nodding.

"If you wanted a larger size, all you had to do was ask." He tried to push the hurt out of his voice, but it was obvious she'd caught onto it.

"Aww, Barry." She grasped his arms and shook him gently so he'd look at her. "I'm sorry. I just…" She licked her lips.

"What?" he urged, impatient and insatiably curious.

"I wanted a creative way to tell you."

His brows furrowed. "Tell me what?"

She cleared her throat. "That I, uh…will be hungrier than usual…for a while… And I, might want to eat some odd combinations of food…and sporadic times during the day…and night…"

"Because?" he asked, still oblivious.

By some miracle Iris held onto her frustration and her overwhelming urge to laugh.

"Because that's what happens when you have another personal growing inside you, Barry."

It took him another moment or two, but then… "Another…per—" His face cleared, realization shining in his eyes and spreading into his whole facial expression. "You—we—you're—"

"I'm pregnant!" she squealed.

A boundless joy burst inside him, happier now than he'd been since their wedding day. He lifted Iris up off her feet and spun her around, thrilling in how she clung to him and her smile that pressed into his neck.

"This is amazing!" he declared, unable to stop smiling.

"Well, kiss me already," she laughed, clutching at him when he nearly lunged at her to kiss her properly.

When he pulled back a while later, he didn't go far, instead nuzzling against her face, practically purring.

"That was a great way to tell me," he whispered against her cheek.

Iris smiled and pushed her fingers through his hair.

"A gallon from now on," she informed him.

He laughed. "Noted."

"Even after the baby is born."

He laughed again. "You got it."

"Or babies."

He pulled back, wide-eyed. "Bab _ies_?"

She shrugged innocently. "You never know."

Her eyes sparkled; she pulled him in for another kiss to stop his gawking.

It was a while till she got to the ice cream.


End file.
